Something Much More Important in Mind
by rawshark
Summary: A collection of short stories centered around the triplets, and how they turn their parents' lives completely upside down. WARNING: contains disgusting amounts of fluff. (May cross into borderline T rating, but nothing inappropriate.)
1. Mother's Day

**UPDATE 2/9/15: I realized I've been writing a lot of fics around this general theme and time period, so I've decided to make this one-shot into a collection of one-shots, most being non-linear, and covering any relative time before/during/after they're born, with perhaps a couple two-shots thrown in.**

**This chapter was inspired by this lovely fan art:**

** comicninja409 . deviantart Mother-s-Day-453590518**

**As well, I must give credit to Gadfly, whose canon created in "Small Miracles" as well as most of his other fics (which too are excellent and are must-reads) this slightly draws from.**

**I love Fiona as a character, and because it's a children's franchise and she's not the main character, she doesn't get the credit or exploration she deserves, in my opinion. But in a way I'm thankful they left the pregnancy/birth/new parenthood largely untouched, so that we could fill in the rest ourselves.**

**Thank you for reading, please R&amp;R!**

* * *

Shrek's hand had virtually become an extension of her own, as she held fast to it, and he to her. Her other hand balled up the linens upon which she lay, atop a bed of moss and straw that temporarily lay on their bed frame.

The past months Fiona had reminisced upon her elaborate fantasies from her days in the tower, of the life she was lead to believe she would have, and the family she would create with her prince. How could she not? She was about to see them become reality, though not at all in any similarity to what they once looked like in her mind. But realized, indeed, they were: she had her prince - the greatest that any princess could ask for; they had their castle, much more a home than marble blocks and mortar could build; and now they had their family.

Well, almost.

Anything useful Shrek had read in all the books Fiona had foisted upon him in the preceding weeks had flown clear out of his head; similarly had the relaxation techniques Fiona had learned. Luckily, as always, they had each other, which was _almost_ as good, they cheekily agreed.

Next to the bed frame sat a very newly-expanded crib, in which lay two very newly-born baby boy ogres, cleaned and wrapped in the softest blankets they owned. Farkle, the eldest, christened a traditional ograrian name (Shrek's choice, naturally), brown eyes like his father and a sprig of his mother's red hair; Fergus, the second, with a more kingdom-inspired name (a mutual agreement), brown-eyed and bald as he could be. In the midst of the emotional tidal waves that were currently consuming them, both parents took ample time to meet their sons, shed tears (something Shrek was entirely unprepared to experience), shower them with kisses, and take in every last detail about them before gently settling them down.

In the throes of her own personal emotional hurricane, Fiona had been so happy to have two healthy babies that she had not even thought about her girlhood dream to have a daughter. She'd even had the perfect name in mind: Felicia.

Now, able to better focus on her final efforts, she resolved that would not let herself be disappointed, not even a little, by a third happy and healthy baby boy, if it so happened to be.

Not even a little.

Some voice registered at the back of FIona's mind, saying that something is "almos'"… something. She wasn't even completely sure if the boys were still crying. She closed her eyes, leaned back into the makeshift bed and smiled. In an odd moment of focus, she felt a single drop fall from her nose down into the corner of her mouth, though whether it was sweat or tears she couldn't say. She felt that very particular pressure building within her, and as it grew she inhaled deeply. Shrek's hand in hers tensed in anticipation, and she in turn adjusted her grip within his own. She bore down with more might than she thought she could contain as more tears trickled down from her eyes, and she was vaguely aware that she herself was screaming.

And then, all at once: nothing. Fiona let her body fall limp into the bedding, and stared up at their dirt ceiling as she desperately gasped for air. Both her hands laid at her side, having let go of Shrek - or was it he who released her? - who was occupied with something just out of her sight. The recognizable cries of her two sons filtered back into her consciousness. Her breathing slowly began to regulate, but she still hadn't h-

A brand-new voice pierced the early morning air to make the duet a trio, and fresh tears streamed down Fiona's face. She could not stop laughing, or smiling, or crying, all three at once. She heard Shrek's unmistakable laugh, getting caught in a sputter or two for good measure. As she brought herself back to a more upright position-

"Issa girl! Issa girl!"

Shrek too had caught the laughing-crying bug, and he lifted the baby up to place in his wife's arms. He wiped a hand roughly down his face, as he sat for a moment gazing at the pair, as he had two times before.

"Felicia." Fiona's voice was airy and hoarse, and barely audible over three sets of cries and one other set of laugh-cries. Saying the name out loud, to the child to whom in now belonged, brought on another wave of sobs, and her tears fell directly on top of her daughter; she attempted to kiss each one away, in much the same way she had with the boys.

Shrek had already picked up Farkle and Fergus from the crib (properly, as he proudly remembered something from his readings). He helped her hold them all on her lap facing her, as if Fiona were holding an armful of infant playing cards. He kissed the top of each baby's head, and then brushed a soaked lock of hair from his wife's face, and kissed her tenderly on the lips. With no free hands, Fiona settled for leaning her forehead against her Shrek's, and kissed him again. She was finally able to whisper to him, "Thank you." He held her cheek in his hand a moment more, then kissed her on the forehead again. He sat back down in his chair beside the bed and soaked up the sight before him.

Fiona knew instantly in her heart that she loved each of her children equally. It's just that she met two for the very first time, and one she had met once before, in a dream, now getting to know in the flesh.

Fiona had long forgotten the exact date of Far Far Away's officially ordained Mother's Day, but such a date was trivial, at any rate. Today was her Mother's Day.


	2. Sir Squeakles - 1 of 2

Fiona snipped the thread and smoothed out the little jumpsuit atop her enormous stomach. She neatly folded and placed it with the other outfits on the side table, in piles sorted by color, season, and style - booties, shirts, long-sleeved, short-sleeved, onesies with feet, onesies without feet, snowsuits, bathing suits, mittens, and hats - with holes for ears, naturally.

Shrek turned from from the pot of soup he was stirring over the fire to Fiona, and blinked at the mountain of baby clothes next to her - the stacks nearly reached her head as she sat in the rocking chair.

"Ya know, there's only three of 'em, Fi," Shrek offered cheekily, thumbing through one of the stacks like a deck of cards.

"Yes," Fiona replied, placing her hand on her belly, "I am _quite_ aware." She playfully smacked his hand away from her works. "Being prepared never hurt anyone, hm?"

Shrek looked at the stack of cloth diapers on the dresser - nearly Fiona's standing height, which considering they were each single sheets of muslin was impressive - and couldn't argue with her there.

He shrugged with feigned nonchalance, and turned back to stirring his soup. Out of the corner of his eye he observed the tiny garments again, in their organized piles - green, blue, orange, brown, plaid, gingham, paisley - but nothing pink. A pink outfit would be a waste if they had three boys, she'd once explained, and if they did have a girl, the colors would still be suitable. Shrek had almost asked her why the colors of their clothes mattered_ at all_, they were _babies_, but even he knew better than to question his pregnant wife while there were scissors within reach.

He knew Fiona wanted a girl - she'd even picked a name - as she had told him her childhood fantasies months before, but had spoken less and less certainly about it as the weeks went by and the possibility of it not coming true sank in. And if Shrek were completely honest, he hoped they had at least one, as well. No doubt he wanted at least one son, someone to teach to hunt and fight, but a daughter… he couldn't put it into words, but he knew that he very much wanted a daughter. He wouldn't be _disappointed_, necessarily, with all boys, and certainly neither would Fiona, but…

"You can leave the fabric and everything out, I'll finish after dinner." She set down her tools and placed a hand on the chair arm, preparing for the feat of standing up, the other hand covering a long-overdue yawn.

_Ye mean yer not DONE?_ was Shrek's initial thought, but he wisely suppressed himself. He held out a hand for her to take, and helped her onto the raised floor of their bedroom, already knowing she would be taking her pre-dinner nap.

"I'll come get ye when soup's on," Shrek said, lightly kissing her forehead as she lay down, and she smiled weakly, already slipping off to sleep.

Shrek stepped back down and closed the curtain. He waited a moment, and like clockwork heard her gentle snoring. He then went into the kitchen and opened the bottommost drawer under the sink, retrieving a small bundle of fabric, complete with its own needle and thread. He chose this particular drawer because he knew Fiona couldn't bend down to open it. This was his own little project.

Two black buttons had been secured to the pea-soup piece on top, with a smiling mouth stitched with red yarn. It had been cut into the shape of a head, complete with two ears sticking out, which continued into a round body with arms and legs. An identical piece, save for facial features, was secured to its backside, along with some permanent brown tartan overalls for decency. It was missing something though, besides stuffing, of course… a nose.

The soup needed to simmer for a spell longer, so he took the opportunity to look through the cut fabric scraps Fiona had discarded into her basket of sewing supplies. Soon he found a small grey piece he felt was perfect. He cut it into as even an oval as he could, and took his final piece over to the kitchen table.

Similar to Fiona, Shrek had collected a pile of scrap wood and other odds and ends in the front yard, which were currently in various states of carving and nailing and painting. He had in mind to make a rocking horse and swing set and stick-and-hoop and spinning tops and blocks and… whatever else he could think of. He hadn't actually finished anything yet - partially due to not having time, but more so because he realized they were such physical toys, they wouldn't be needed for quite a while. A doll, on the other hand, could be more immediately appreciated.

Thank Grimm the needle had already been threaded, or else he'd be sitting at the kitchen table well into dinnertime attempting to do so. He began to stitch the nose in place, centered between the doll's eyes and mouth, and his tongue began to emerge from his lips in his concentration. He then went back to the drawer for a handful of down feathers, taken out of his own pillow. He stuffed them into the floppy figure until it was finally three-dimensional, just firm enough to have shape but squishy enough to be good for babies. Or at least what he assumed would be good for babies; he'd never actually seen an ogre baby in the flesh, only having pictures in books as reference points.

Shrek again took the needle to sew up the opening, when he suddenly remembered the most important part. He went back to the drawer once more and got a fisheye-sized rubber ball - a remnant of one of Fiona's ridiculous white dog's toys - and pushed it through the feathers to sit just at the doll's stomach. He then quickly sewed the opening closed and bit the thread off. He set it down on the table and got up to stir the pot again, then returned to admire his creation for a moment. It just fit in his great palm, and the old fabric already felt used, in a good way. He wanted to squeeze it, to make sure the squeaker worked, but feared it may wake Fiona, so he did not.

Looking at the toy in his hand smiling back up at him, he couldn't help but imagine holding one of their actual children. From what he understood from the books, as well as his own rough estimations of Fiona's ever-increasing size, a newborn ogre would be barely bigger than his entire hand; he realized with amusement that the doll would be almost as big as the babies themselves at first. He held both hands out next to each other, fingers comfortably spread, and imagined three little ogres lying in them, plus a little overflow onto his arms. They would be here very soon - any day now - sooner than he was sure he'd be ready for, but come they would. He felt the air escape from his lungs and his heart rate increase. He was terrified, no doubt about that, but he couldn't deny the overwhelming excitement as well, as the curling corners of his mouth revealed. He brought the doll up to him and kissed its forehead - something he would've died laughing at just months before, but in this moment it felt right.

Shrek took a deep breath, and noticed the sun beginning to fall behind the tall trees surrounding their home. The soup would be a few more minutes, so he needn't wake Fiona yet. He thought to put the doll back in the drawer, but now that it was complete, it didn't feel right to shut it away. He thought of where he could put it, when it hit him. He softly approached the bedroom curtain, and entered as stealthily as possible. He tiptoed over to the triple-wide crib next to Fiona's side. He knelt down, quickly looking up his wife to make sure she still slept, then placed the doll in the corner of the crib. He then retreated as silently as he'd approached, and went back to the kettle.

As Shrek went about putting out bowls and utensils, he heard the mattress creak, and a soft sigh from his wife. By the time she situated herself, he thought, the soup would be ready to serve, which worked out quite nicely. The mattress creaked again, which was then followed by another moment of silence, longer than he expected.

"Honey…" Fiona said softly, still behind the curtain. Shrek quickly turned his head, worried something was wrong.

"Yeah, Fi?" He set the cups down on the table and advanced to the curtain. "Is ev'rythin' a'right?" He whisked the curtain aside to find Fiona standing in front of the crib.

She nodded calmly, still looking down at what she held. "Is this… did you make this?" She finally looked up at him, for once at eye level from standing on the raised level.

Shrek down looked at the doll in her open palm, and sighed in relief. "Oh, yeah, that," he breathed, trying to appear more relaxed than he was, and scratched the back of his neck. "Oh aye. I mean, ye had all this scrap fabric, 'n I thought, ya know-"

"It's so- it's perfect." She looked back down at it, her fingers tracing its features.

A little embarrassed at her words, Shrek playfully scoffed, "Oh c'mon now, Fiona, _really,_ it was noth-" Shrek paused as Fiona raised her head again, her eyes shining with welling tears. Hormones, he mentally noted, but nevertheless he was moved by her reaction.

He finally sighed, which turned into a light chuckle, and wrapped his arms around her middle as best he could. "Ye'v made all this," he gestured first to the clothes, then looked down at her stomach and placed his hand atop it, "that I thought I'd make a little somethin' m'self." Fiona placed her own hand on his and squeezed it, letting a tear fall down her face.

She looked at Shrek's gift again, then sniffed and wiped her eyes. "But what if we don't have a girl?" She looked up at him with a playful smirk, but Shrek could see a touch of genuine apprehension in her eyes.

"I thought a'that," he admitted, and took the doll into his own hand. He squeezed its stomach, producing a short squeak, and watched Fiona's face alight with surprise. He set the doll on her stomach and took her hands in his.

"In the _chance_ we don't have a girl," he continued, "I'm sure our boys would enjoy havin' a fair maiden to rescue from, oh I d'know, the highest shelf, in the tallest cupboard, surrounded by a lake a'blankets, and guarded by a fire-breathing cockroach. I know I would." He raised his eyebrows as a playful grin formed on his face.

Fiona cocked a brow at him and tried her best to maintain a sassy smirk, but couldn't help but dissolve into giggles, resting her forehead against her husband's. He laughed along with her at his own silliness, and she kissed him.

Fiona took the doll again and gave it one more admiring look, then stepped down into the living room and laid it gently atop the pile of baby clothes. She then inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of fresh soup, and sighed indulgently.

"Well then, I am _starved_. Let's eat!"

* * *

**A/N: The scene in Shrek Forever After when Shrek finds Felicia's doll in his pocket is honestly one of the saddest moments in an animated/children's film I've seen, and there's not even any dialogue. And then when he gives it back to Felicia at the end… the way they use such a small symbol as a doll is just really great. It's apparent that Shrek has more investment in the doll than if it were just another toy, so I decided to explore that possibility. Sir Squeakles is the actual official name of the doll, btw. ;) **

**I had originally intended to leave this as a one-shot, but I got to thinking… two-shot? What do you think?**

**Credit to hanny spoon and Gadfly for constant inspiration. Please R&amp;R, and thanks for reading!**


	3. Sir Squeakles - 2 of 2

**A/N: I'd threatened to write a follow-up to the last chapter, so here it is. Thank you!**

* * *

Though only twenty-four hours had passed, to Shrek it felt like half a lifetime. This time one day ago, as the sun fell behind the horizon of the swamp, he and a very pregnant Fiona had sat down to dinner; now, Shrek stood at the front door, bidding farewell to their visitors - Lillian as she entered her royal coach, to finish Artie's royal training back in Far Far Away, promising to return as soon as it was complete, as well as Donkey, who along with his children and Puss climbed atop Dragon to depart to their respective parts of the forest. Even as he stood there waving, he itched to return to the bed chambers, where infinitely more important things were happening.

As soon as Lillian's carriage rolled down the farthest hill and Dragon had ascended above the treetops with Donkey, their children and Puss, Shrek let the door swing - but not_ slam_ \- shut and all but sprinted the ten feet from the doorway to the bedroom. He flung the curtain aside and basked in the warmth of the picture before him. Fiona did not even look up at his entrance, the three sleeping newborns in her arms holding fast all of her attention.

"Hello, there." It finally occurred to Shrek to make his presence known, lest he stand there watching them all night - not an unpleasant option, he mused, but after forty-eight hours of no sleep, his legs would hardly agree to that.

"Hi," she said simply. Fiona raised her head to meet him, and a stray lock fell across her face. The way the sunset sky lit up her hair and reflected off her eyes, to Shrek, melted away any sign of fatigue that may have shown. She smiled a tired, content grin at her husband.

"How're… uh, y'know… yeah?" Shrek had suddenly and completely lost his command of language, to which he chuckled sheepishly. as he moved forward to brush the hair from her face.

"Perfect." Fiona had cast her gaze down again, and seemed to speak more to the babies than to Shrek. She sighed back into her pillows, adjusting her hold to better see them. Her eyes then focused on Felicia, snuggled between her two slightly-older brothers.

"Guess I'll need to make some pink things, after all." She chuckled despite herself and blinked back an unauthorized tear.

Shrek beamed down at the little girl, the spitting image of her mother. His eyes shifted to the two boys on either side of her - his _sons_ \- and smoothed the curly sprig of hair atop Farkle's head with his pinky. He brushed his thumb over Fergus's head, already speckled with spots.

Shrek went to his side of the bed and looked at Fiona, as if to ask permission to sit on it beside her. She offered a weary smirk and cocked eyebrow, as if to say, _Do you really think you have to ask?_ which quickly faded to a gentle, inviting grin. Shrek climbed as unobtrusively as he could onto the mattress. As he lowered himself to sit, an unexpected _squea-eak_ emitted from his backside, triggering unexpected laughter from the two. Shrek had forgotten, in the torrent of activity from earlier, that the doll had somehow made its way into his back pocket. He pulled it out and set it in his cross-legged lap; he simply looked at it a moment, thinking about the day's events, while it stared up at him with its button eyes and ever-smiling mouth.

Suddenly, he softly cleared his throat, catching even Fiona's attention, and with his pointer finger, lightly tapped the doll's left and right shoulders.

"I hereby dub thee," Shrek murmured, as dignified as he could manage, "Sir, uh… Squeakles. Yeah." He looked quickly at Fiona, who giggled softly. "'N I hereby charge ye, Squeakles," he took the doll and placed it on Fiona's chest, "with th' duty a'honorin' an' protectin' Her Highness, Princess Felicia." Shrek's voice lost its edge as he spoke his daughter's name, and Felicia's eyes fluttered behind her closed eyelids - purely coincidental, he thought. Shrek paused, then quickly added, "that goes fer th' two a'you, too, Princes Farkle an' Fergus," He inhaled deep through his nose, cheekily trying to regain his stately air. "What say ye?" He picked up Sir Squeakles one more time, and made the doll bow to his new princess, inadvertently producing its namesake sound.

"And _ye_?" addressing the boys. Taking her cue, Fiona gently shifted her arms, generating a small "bow" from each of them, as well. She laughed again, and let new tears welling in her eyes fall as they may.

He took one final look at the doll, then set it carefully atop Felicia, leaving her face unobstructed. It really _was _almost as big as her. Fiona was about to ask Shrek to please not stack toys on top of their newborns, when Felicia's arm broke free of her swaddling and grabbed tightly onto one of Squeakle's ears, promptly shoving as much as she could into her mouth.

"Well," Shrek sighed, pleased at the reception, "that's settled now, I b'lieve." Shrek put his arm around Fiona's shoulder and sunk deeper into the pillows next to her. She in turn rested her head on his, her tired eyes still glued to the miracles in front of her, as the sun set on the first day of three new lives.


	4. Storytime

The first thing Fiona noticed was her own hot breath steaming back at her, as she lay face-down on the pillow. She groaned, and planted both palms on the mattress to lift herself up. It felt as if a sack of flour had been placed on her back, it was so difficult to move. A mother of three-month-old triplets needed to get many things - diapers, toys, blankets, more diapers - but she was pretty sure the flu did not belong on that list.

She finally lifted her head from the pillow, only to be cruelly met with the sun's irritatingly cheery rays bursting through the window. Her head felt like it was made of stone, and that someone needed to pull the sword out that had been undeniably wedged into it. She had no idea what time it was, nor did she care to find out. She didn't know what, if anything, had woken her up, but awake she now was. All she knew was that the longer she spent under the weather - two days and counting - the longer she couldn't care for her children, leaving her husband to do most everything.

Not that she didn't trust Shrek - nothing was further from the truth, as she trusted him with her life as well as theirs. But the fact remained that it was hard enough for the _two_ of them to juggle their babies - figuratively, of course - that giving it all to just one was just not fair. Fiona was able to do small things like feedings, which she could tell Shrek hated to bother her for despite it being unavoidable. And even then she couldn't hold them very long or even kiss them, lest risk them catching whatever she had. Shrek himself had slept the past two nights in his alligator-skin recliner in the living room, at Fiona's insistence to minimize his own risk. Shrek had followed up her order by offering to move the crib into the living room as well, though he instantly regretted even suggesting it. After a moment, though, Fiona gave in, knowing it was absolutely necessary. She tried to not let Shrek see the minor heartbreak in her eyes each time he took the babies from her, but she knew he hated doing it just as much.

Being all alone in their bedroom, despite the regular pop-ins, almost reminded her of being back in… _no_. She would not even go there. She had kept her bedside candle lit around the clock since coming down with this, she told Shrek, because she was in and out of sleep so much; in reality, with her entire family away from her, she needed all the assurance she could get.

Eyes clamped securely shut against the unwelcoming bright sunshine, Fiona finally pushed herself into sitting upright on the bed. She rubbed the sleep and fog from her eyes and finally opened them, only to be met with a jungle of auburn hair in front of her face. She unceremoniously threw it back over her head, and began to finally take in her surroundings. A warm spring breeze rustled the tartan curtains of the bedroom window, as well as the divider curtain between the bed and the rest of the house. She suddenly realized she was hearing a familiar voice telling a familiar tale.

"…an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort, which could only be broken by love's first kiss…"

She placed her feet on the floor and slid off the bed, taking the quilt with her for warmth despite her sweating, and stepped deliberately toward the edge of the room. She withdrew the tiniest bit of curtain, careful not to slide the rings along the rod, and peered into the living room.

The first thing she saw was the crib - the _empty_ crib - just outside the curtain on the ground level. Still disoriented and confused, her eyes quickly darted to the far end of the room. Shrek sat in his recliner-turned-temporary-bed, footrest raised, a great leather-bound book open on his knees. All three babies lay on his chest facing the book's beautiful illustrations - Farkle was unsurprisingly asleep, fist in mouth; Fergus lay in quiet but intent fascination at the pictures in front of him; Felicia kicked her feet happily, her head tilted upward to look at her father rather than the book.

"…in a castle, guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon- oh, c'mon now, I think 'terrible' is a wee bit harsh, yeah? 'Misunderstood,' _that_ I could get b'hind…"

This story was especially familiar to Fiona - it being nearly identical to her own, notwithstanding - because she'd asked Shrek to read it to her so many times when she was pregnant, too tired to even get out of bed. At some point - either to cure his own boredom, or to make Fiona laugh, or both - Shrek had begun adding his own commentary. But even now as he read it to their children, it was different; it was as if he knew they wouldn't understand the actual words, and so read it as if having a conversation with them. He could've been saying anything at all and they would've loved it just the same.

"…in the highest room a'the tallest tower, the whole kingd- wait, that can't be right… oh! Looks like someone went 'n ripped a page outta here… Heh, now who would do _that_…"

Fiona had to stifle a laugh into the quilt - she laughed every time he came to that part, despite knowing it was coming a mile off.

"…weddin' day, 'n they lived happily ever after. The End." Fiona realized she had mouthed the concluding words, still entranced by the sight before her.

Shrek closed the volume quietly and set it aside, his hands now free to hold the babies more securely to his chest. "Good story, hm? What would ye like t'read next, _Puss'n Boots_? _Jack 'n th'Beanstalk_?" Farkle spit his hand from his mouth and began to whimper. "Yeah, me neither," Shrek replied. He sighed, and gently bounced the three in his arms. "I know, I know, ye want yer mum… bu' I promise she'll be better b'fore ye know it." He kissed the top of each of their heads. "I'm not _that_ bad, though, am I?" As if waiting for him to say it, Fergus, and even Felicia, joined in Farkle's fussing. Shrek sighed, both with bemusement as well as understanding. He then sniffed the air, and felt Farkle's diaper. "Oh… there's _that_, too, I s'pose." He reached down and lowered the recliner's footrest, then placed his arm back around his bundle of babies and got to his feet. "Might's well check th' lot a'ye, then…" and walked them over to the changing table.

Fiona released the curtain and backed into the bedroom, before Shrek could see her. Part of her wanted to go to them all - to hug them, kiss them, to just be with them - but she continued her way back to the bed, partly to not risk them falling ill, but more to let the three have their time with Shrek. Fiona had had, and would continue to have, many private, precious moments with her children, and knew that Shrek needed to have his, as well. They would have time as a family when she was back in good health.

As she lay herself back down, she heard the sound of raspberries being blown onto little ogre's tummies, followed by laughter, both high-pitched and low and deep. As the princess drifted back into her molasses-like sleep, she heard her husband's ambivalent voice, months earlier, confiding to her his fears that he wouldn't be a good father; if only that Shrek could have seen what she had just witnessed. And though she knew it would be a few more days until she was truly recovered, she couldn't help but feel just a little better.


End file.
